


How I Got Turned Into The Evil Undead, by Xander Harris

by Reremouse (TheBelfry)



Series: 200 Years Verse [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, The less than impressive undeath of Xander Harris Esq., Vampire Xander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:51:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2080992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBelfry/pseuds/Reremouse





	How I Got Turned Into The Evil Undead, by Xander Harris

Fall 2000

Xander wakes to humming. 

Humming and hands in his hair and a humdinger of a hangover.

He decides to keep his eyes closed longer because - hey - aside from feeling like his head's gonna explode, the hands and the humming are kinda nice. 

Nice but weird since he's pretty sure it's not Anya humming. She hums things like the Money Song and Lets Get It On - and sometimes Fur Elise. His Ahn's a strange girl.

But this isn't any of those and it takes him a while to place it. 

"That's from Lady And The Tramp," he says once he does. 

"That it is, beautiful boy."

And make that definitely not Anya humming. He'll start wigging soon. Probably as soon as he remembers how he got back to the basement from the Bronze last night - or as soon as he really thinks about the pain in his neck that doesn't feel as much like a pulled muscle as he wishes it did. 

"So - are you a lady?" 

She laughs - and laughter is a good thing right?

"No. I'm the tramp." Cool fingers slide down his face and over his Adam's apple and he swallows hard.

Then: "Hey! I'm nobody's lady!" He opens his eyes and that's a mistake because there's a vampire smiling down at him. Really smiling like she knows the secret of life and it's all one great big joke. 

Which Xander kinda suspected all along but it's not the kinda thing a guy likes to have confirmed while he's - y'know - living. 

And he must've said that out loud because her hand's wandered somewhere south of the belt and her lips are right over his and Xander's body never gets the memo that getting hard for predatory women isn't healthy.

Really isn't healthy because she says, "I've always wanted a boy with a sense of humor."

"There's a really funny guy I work with," Xander says because his mouth never knows when the fat lady sings. No fat lady here.

"You're very funny," she says and he wishes she'd stop petting his neck. Actually, he really wishes he could stop enjoying the way she's petting his neck.

"Look - you're beautiful. Sexy. Probably way too good for me. You don't - " He's muffled by slim, strong and kinda room temperature fingers which is a good thing - at least for her - because when the eyes turn gold and the fangs come out he's pretty sure he screams like a girl. 

She smiles again and this time the smile's a little less like the secret of life and a little more like the secret of ending life. His. "That's okay. I like my men rough around the edges," she says and Xander's world explodes from the neck out.

\--

Xander's used to waking up unable to remember what happened the night before.

He's got a system.

He drags himself out of bed and checks himself out in the mirror for bumps, bruises, contusions - freaky claw marks. 

And then he'll repress it all and make himself some breakfast. 

There's only one flaw in the process this time and as flaws go, it's a big one. 

Because in the mirror a whole lot of nothing stares back at him. 

"You'll get used to it," Darla says and he makes a funny choking noise and stumbles away, bangs his shin on the toilet and overbalances into the shower. 

And that would've been that except for those two crazy kids on Lover's Lane saved by the bell - the bell or the chanting or the big burning soul crammed into Xander's chest that lights him up like the Fourth of July.

\--

He doesn't like to think about it. 

Xander shoves his backpack into the overhead bin and slouches down in his seat on the Greyhound until the overhead lights go off and nobody can see he doesn't have a reflection. 

It's Xander's new system where he spends the days in bus terminals and crams his backpack into storage lockers when he goes out looking for a butcher shop then collects it and climbs onto the first departing bus with a thermos and a straw, bound for - wherever. 

He knows he should call somebody back in Sunnydale - maybe Giles - the way he knows Willow knows where he is and what happened to him. 

He's heard her chant before. 

And he knows it's kinda girly to be angry about this, maybe as girlyman as it was to leave Sunnydale without telling anyone anything. 

But a guy should get to stop being the butt monkey when he's dead.

"Route 4414, Detroit to Pittsburgh. We're gonna be leaving in ten minutes, folks."

He'll call once he finds a place to settle down. 

Souled vampires never work out well for Sunnydale anyway. 

And besides - it has so been done. 

Xander flips the top off his straw and sucks a warm mouthful of pig. 

It's not actually that bad. 

He falls asleep somewhere between Cleveland and Akron.


End file.
